10. Reed
Chapter 10
Reed
M y grip tightens on the steering wheel. This is a mess. A complete fucking mess. The whole thing was televised live across Crescent City—millions watched Storm pull our pack's name from that barrel. There's no hiding from this, no denying it, no explaining it away.
"You never wanted her as your omega," I say, meeting Jonathan's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "So why the hell are we driving away with her instead of sorting this out?"
"It's too late for that," Jonathan replies, his voice tight as he watches Storm from where he sits beside her. "The moment she pulled our name on live television, it became a political nightmare. If I deny the claim now, it looks like weakness. If I admit it was a mistake, it undermines the entire omega system."
"So you're just going to pretend you wanted this?" I can't keep the disbelief from my voice.
Jonathan's jaw tightens. "I'm going to do what's necessary to maintain control of the situation. The damage is done—all we can do now is contain it."
In the rear-view mirror, I catch glimpses of her watching me. Jonathan’s larger frame easily swallows the smaller omega. His expression is stone, but his scent gives him away the black pepper, spiking with something else. Something I've never smelled on him before.
"Where are you taking me?" Storm demands, trying to wriggle away from Jonathan's dominating glare.
"Home," he answers, his voice flat.
She laughs, the sound sharp and humorless. "That's not my home."
"It is now."
I turn onto the main road leading away from the theater and towards our apartment, only a block away. My mind drifts back to the underground fight club. To Rook's face when I knocked him down. I recall the words I spoke in his ear before leaving him bleeding on the concrete floor.
"Stay away from Choosing Day. She's not yours anymore."
Jonathan had been clear about the assignment. "Find Holloway. Make sure he understands that showing up at Choosing Day would be... unwise." A simple warning, delivered with my fists. I didn't question why—I never do. Jonathan's orders come with reasons, but rarely explanations.
What I hadn't expected was the raw fury in Holloway's eyes, the desperate way he fought, even when it was clear he couldn't win. Or the way he spat blood onto the concrete and swore he'd kill me if I ever hurt her. I had no intention of hurting her. She was meant to choose a pack and leave. Not choose our pack.
"Reed." Jonathan's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Take us to the penthouse. We need to avoid the crowds."
I nod, making a sharp turn down a narrow side street. The protests are spreading beyond the theater. News travels fast in Crescent City, especially when it involves the Kingsley’s. By morning, everyone will know that Jonathan claimed an omega through a lottery we should never have been part of.
The car falls into silence, broken only by Storm's unsuccessful attempt to break free. Her fight is admirable but futile. Jonathan's grip is unbreakable, his determination set in stone. This is happening, whether any of us like it or not.
And I don't like it. Not one bit.
Jonathan is compromising everything we've worked for. Years of carefully managing the Omega House from the inside, me controlling security and outside access while he handled the omegas directly. All for what? For an omega who clearly hates him, who tried to publicly humiliate him? Who is in love with another alpha?
"You're making a mistake," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them.
Jonathan's eyes meet mine in the rear-view mirror, a warning flash of green. "I don't recall asking for your opinion, Reed."
"She pulled your name," I continue, ignoring the threat in his gaze. "Someone rigged the lottery to embarrass you."
"I'm aware." His voice is clipped.
"And you're still claiming her?" I can't keep the disbelief from my tone. "She's in love with Holloway. She won't ever submit to you."
Storm goes still at the mention of Rook's name, her gray eyes widening as they lock onto mine in the mirror. "Where is he? Where’s Rook?"
I don't answer her. She just made my point. Keeping my attention on Jonathan, whose expression has darkened dangerously at the other alphas name.
"That's enough," he says, the command in his voice unmistakable. "This isn't up for discussion."
I fall silent, turning my attention back to the road. The sleek high-rise that houses our penthouse comes into view, its reflective glass surface gleaming against the night sky. Not many know we have a residence here. It’s away from the city center and closer to the Omega House. Usually, the alphas who run the Omega House move into the apartment on the top floor. But we never did.
I pull into the private underground garage, using the security code to access the reserved area for residents.
The tires crunch over concrete as I pull into our designated space. I cut the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the tension filling the car.
Jonathan nods once to me, then turns to Storm, who has gone suspiciously quiet. "We're going inside now. If you run, I’ll catch you. If you fight, you’ll lose. Understand?"
She stares back at him, defiance blazing in her eyes. "Fuck you."
A muscle ticks in Jonathan's jaw—the only sign that her words affect him at all. Then he opens the door and pulls her out after him, keeping a firm grip on her arm.
I follow them to the private elevator, standing on Storm's other side as Jonathan inputs the security code. She's assessing everything—the exits, the garage layout, the camera positions. Smart girl. Not that it will help her. This building has security that rivals government facilities. No one gets in or out without us knowing.
And I would know. I’m the one that built the security.
Jonathan's phone rings. He glances at the screen, then silences it without answering. Alex . Of course he'd be calling. The news about Storm must have reached him by now. Jonathan's twin has always been the softer one, the one who questions, and who worries about consequences. Jonathan has never had such limitations, and that is why he’s my closest friend.
The elevator ascends smoothly to the top floor, opening directly into the penthouse foyer. Jonathan moves forward, still gripping Storm's arm as he guides her into the main living area. The space is impressive—floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Crescent City, minimalist furniture in blacks and grays, everything sleek and expensive and cold. Just like Jonathan.
"Reed, make sure everything's secure," he says over his shoulder. "I don't want any surprises tonight."
Translation. “Make sure she doesn't get out.”
I nod, watching as he practically drags her toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. She's still fighting, still cursing, but her movements have a desperate edge now. Reality is setting in. This is happening. She belongs to Pack Kingsley.
Once they disappear down the hallway, I let out a long breath, running a hand through my hair. This is a disaster in the making. Jonathan knows it. I know it. Everyone will know it soon enough.
I move through the penthouse methodically, checking security systems, setting additional protocols. Everything is in order, just as it should be. No one will get in. No one will get out. Not tonight, at least.
Jonathan's phone, left on the kitchen counter, buzzes with another incoming call. Alex again. I consider answering it, then think better of it. If Alex wanted to speak with me, he'd call my phone. This is between the twins. This is Jonathan’s choice. He can explain to his brother why he brought the omega home. I’m not in the mood for Alex’s dramatics. He may be pack, but we’re not close.
Instead, I pour myself a generous measure of whiskey from the bar cart. I need it after tonight. The amber liquid burns pleasantly as I swallow, the familiar warmth offering little comfort against the cold realization of what's happened.
Storm is pack now. The words sit uncomfortably in my mind, jarring against everything I know about her from the surveillance footage. Four years I've watched her from a distance, the security feeds giving me glimpses of her defiance, her spirit, her refusal to submit. Four years of Jonathan’s quiet obsession, thinly disguised as professional duty.
And now she's here. In our space. Under our protection. Part of our pack.
I down the rest of my whiskey, pouring another as my thoughts drift back to Rook Holloway. To the rage in his eyes when I told him to stay away from Choosing Day. He won't give up now that he knows we have her. He'll come for her, sooner or later.
And when he does, I'll be waiting.
The sound of breaking glass echoes from down the hallway, followed by Jonathan's low growl. I smile despite myself, shaking my head. Storm isn't going to make this easy for him. Good . Maybe she'll knock some sense into his thick skull before he destroys everything we've built.
I take my whiskey to the living room, settling into one of the black leather armchairs that faces the city. From this height, Crescent City looks almost beautiful, a sprawling maze of lights and shadows, secrets and power. The elite districts shine brightest, like stars against the darker neighborhoods where beta-born alphas like Holloway survive.
There was a time when the Howard name would have lit up the city like a beacon. When my family's power rivaled even the Kingsleys'. Before my father's crimes, before the disgrace, before I became a ghost in my own city.
Jonathan's phone buzzes again on the counter. He needs to deal with Alex sooner or later. Those two might be opposites in temperament, but their bond runs deep. Besides, Alex has a right to know what's happening. This affects him too— affects all of us .
Another crash sounds from down the hall, followed by Storm's colorful string of curses. I can't help but chuckle. She certainly knows how to make an entrance.
Movement in the hallway catches my attention, and I look up to see Jonathan striding into the living room, his expression thunderous, a red mark blooming on his cheekbone. She hit him. And by the look of it, she hit him hard.
"Problems with your new omega?" I can't resist asking, raising my glass in mock salute.
Jonathan glares at me, moving to the bar cart to pour his own drink. "She's locked in the blue room. For now."
I arch an eyebrow. "For now?"
"She'll adjust ." He sounds less certain than his words suggest.
"And if she doesn't?"
Jonathan downs his drink in one swallow, setting the glass down with careful control. "She will."
Something in his tone makes me study him more carefully. There's something else here, something beyond his usual stubborn determination. Something almost like... fear?
"Why her, Jonathan?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral. "Out of all the omegas in the house, why would someone put our name in for Storm specifically?"
He doesn't answer immediately, staring out at the city with an expression I can't read. "I don't know," he says finally. "But someone wanted this to happen."
"You're telling me you didn't want this? Because for four years I've watched you monitor her camera feeds, track her movements, become practically obsessed with her." I can't keep the edge from my voice.
"Reed," Jonathan says, his voice cold and laced with warning.
I study him carefully. Jonathan has always been calculating, always ten steps ahead, always in control. He’s never lied to me, but he can’t deny that some part of him wanted this. Whatever game is being played here, I'm not sure even Jonathan knows the rules.
“Who made the call to put both beta-born omegas up for choosing?” Because I know that doesn’t come from the head of Omega House. That comes from higher up and Jonathan’s involved with that side, well at least he was until now. We don’t work for the Omega House anymore.
They knew the uprising was happening. Hell, we all knew there was talk. They took too long to squash it and it grew like wildfire. Whoever thought of putting two beta-born to be up on Choosing day that quickly thought they could stop this rebellion from happening.
“The governor.” Jonathan finally says. His head tilted back in thought. “He doesn’t make the calls, at least not until two weeks ago when he called me and told me to put the two oldest beta-born up.”
Fuck. Fuck.
"The whole city saw it happen," I say, turning back to the window. "Live broadcast, millions of witnesses. There's no walking this back now. Who are our enemies?"
“We have too many to count.” Jonathan turns to look at me.
"Who would benefit from this chaos?" Is it an elite with a grudge? They don’t like the power our pack holds. Or is it a beta-born who used us in their game to grow their cause about the lottery? The lack of Omegas. Until they find a cure to stop alpha’s going feral. I don’t think this will ever be fixed.
There’re not enough omegas to go around for every pack. There are 2 levels in the omegas house that are closed. There aren’t enough to fill every room on the floor we do have in use.
"I don't know yet," Jonathan says, his expression darkening. "But I intend to find out."
Jonathan’s phone goes off and I watch as he reads messages.
“The families are already calling,” he tells me. “The Governor wants a meeting tomorrow. The beta-born alphas are rioting in the streets.”
Everyone wants answers that Jonathan doesn't have.
“I need to look over security footage at the theater.” I need to see all the tickets. I assume they all have our name on them. No way we would be that lucky to be pulled out. Not with the number of tickets in there. The odds are too high.
“My fathers are demanding a meeting now,” he growls. They’re gonna be more upset that Storm is beta-born than the fact what just happened is illegal, and we didn’t even enter. But he should have said something. Took her back to the Omega House. I didn’t like her being here. Invading our space with her bitter chocolate scent.
"What did you expect?" My words come out sharper than intended. "You just claimed an omega through a lottery. I would think they would want to do more than talk."
"I had no choice," he says, his voice eerily calm.
"Then explain it to me," I demand, stepping closer to him. "Make me understand why she's worth all of this chaos."
Jonathan meets my gaze steadily, green eyes unreadable. "She belongs with pack Kingsley."
The finality in his tone sends a chill down my spine. This isn't just about desire or control. This is something else entirely. Is this his alpha making a claim on this omega? The one who’s in love with her beta-born alpha fighter. I know he won’t give up trying to find her.
"And Holloway?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"If he comes for her, you handle it." Jonathan's voice leaves no room for argument.
The command hangs in the air between us, a test of loyalty wrapped in a death sentence. I think of Rook Holloway last Saturday, bloodied but undefeated, his eyes burning with a determination I understood all too well. The desperation of a man who has nothing left to lose.
Could I kill him? Yes. Without hesitation, if it meant protecting my pack. That's what I do. I enforce. I protect. I eliminate threats.
But something about that feels wrong when it comes to Rook. There's a sincerity to his desperation that resonates with me.
"We'll discuss strategy in the morning," Jonathan continues, already turning toward the hallway. "I need to check on Storm. Make sure she hasn't torn apart the blue room."
"Alex has been calling," I say. “You can’t leave him out of the loop.”
Jonathan glances at his phone, then away. "I'll deal with Alex later."
"He deserves to know what's happening, Jonathan. This affects him and Fox too."
"I'm aware." His voice softens slightly, the only indication that the mention of his twin still reaches something human in him. "I'll call him soon."
I nod, knowing there's no point pushing further. Jonathan will do what Jonathan wants to do, and the rest of us will either follow or get out of the way. That's how it's always been.
"Get some rest," he says, almost as an afterthought, as he strides down the hallway toward the blue room. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
I return to my armchair, staring out at the city below. Somewhere out there, Rook Holloway is searching for Storm, probably already planning her rescue. And Jonathan is moving pieces on a board I can't fully see.
I down the last of my whiskey, the burn doing nothing to ease the tension coiled in my chest. She's not just an omega—they named her Storm for a reason. A storm front, rolling in to shatter everything we've built. And I have no idea which pieces will be left standing when she's done.